tell my story
by Glockenspielium
Summary: Hamilton may just be the best detective the precinct has seen in years, even if he never knows when to stop.


Lafayette takes a small sip of his coffee, ankles crossed and propped up onto his desk, one hand delicately grasping a small pastry, the other wrapped firmly around his travel mug. After three years in this country, he may have deigned to lower his standards enough to walk onto the Starbucks premises with Alexander on their way to the office each morning, but he is not foolish enough to mistake the watery muck they serve for passable coffee. It was a risky move; stealing the flasks and holder from Manning's lab in the quiet, early hours of the morning. However, as he took a second, longer sip of the delicious cold drip brew, he reasoned that it was worth every inch of the trouble.

"What's got you looking like a dog with two dicks so early in the morning?"

Placing his mug down, Lafayette swivels slightly in his chair around to see Peggy throwing her backpack onto her desk beside his and slumping down into her chair. The last few sips of her caffeinated beverage of choice (a large red bull) disappear between her lips, before the can is crushed and skilfully flung into the bin at the end of Burr's desk. The junior detective looks up briefly at the tinkering sound it made as it lands, furrows his brow at the two of them, and returns immediately to tapping furiously at his keyboard. Peggy snorts and redirects her gaze to the detective at the desk beside her, head cocked in query. Lafayette blinks twice.

"Ah... dog with two dicks?" Now it's his turn to smirk. "Peggy, _ma chérie_ , I had no idea you kept notes of my weekend activities! If it is truly more dicks you are wanting, I'm more than happy to lend you the purple one, if you are pleased to wait until I have cleaned it well?"

It's a testament to how long she's been listening to his crap that this only evokes another eye roll from her.

"You look happy, Laf. It's 8am." She shudders. "What gives you a right to look so damn happy at this hour?"

His lips curl into a wider smile, teeth flashing white beneath his bowed lips.

" _Évidemment_ , you did not see the news last night."

She shakes her head, pulling back her long curls into the tight restraints of a low ponytail.

"I make a point of avoiding the headlines, at least when I'm off duty, you know that. Last night was all about pop tarts and my Buffy DVD box set. Angelica would have let me know if something important happened."

Lafayette is yet to meet this legendary sister of Peggy's, but from what he's heard, she is as furious a force to be reckoned with as her sister is, if not more treacherous by virtue of her fierce protectiveness. Peggy may complain about it from time to time, but it's clear to him that she relishes the vigilance of her oldest sister's care.

"Ah, _oui_ , it is not broken news-"

"Breaking news."

"- _voilà, ce que je dis;_ but even so, it was worth watching."

He waves her over, sliding his feet back down to the floor and placing his pastry onto a stack of old notes, brushing the crumbs away before opening up youtube on his computer. She perches on the arm of his chair, her eyebrows arching up in increasingly amused increments with every word he types.

" _Alexander Hamilton vs Samuel Seabury vs car windshield_?" She gawks down at Lafayette. "You're kidding me."

He responds by clicking on the first video and turning up the volume, despite Burr's pointed, exasperated sigh at the commotion they're creating.

Lafayette knows by now that the footage is even better than the title suggests, and it doesn't lose hilarity with repeated viewing. A few others meander over to his desk once they hear the opening commotion. It's recorded on a phone camera, crappy image quality and the noise of the whipping wind almost entirely drowning out the monotonous preaching of the bishop, standing by the doors of the criminal court. It's the last day of one of their biggest cases of the year, the rape of an underage student by her sports coach. More than half of the free officers had gone down to the court to show their support – the press coverage had been unrelenting. And, in his capacity as the arresting officer, Alexander Hamilton had made an unforgettable appearance.

The doors to the court open and the young girl and her family are bundled out past the press and onlookers, and just after the pass by the camera's view, Seabury's face is back in frame, and the second half of his sentence is picked up more clearly.

"- as it is written in Deuteronomy 23- 'you shall bring them both out of the gate of the city and there stone them to death: the girl because she did not cry out for help though she was in the city'-"

And then there's a blur of a forest green coat and black hair on the screen and Hamilton's fist is colliding solidly with Seabury's long, crooked nose with a satisfying _crunch_. Peggy lets out a celebratory whoop, fist punching into the air. Lafayette chuckles deeply, patting her thigh affectionately.

" _Et puis,_ that is not even the best part, watch-"

Lafayette selects the full screen option, for maximal enjoyment. He's personally seen this seven times already, including the instance of him being down at the court house personally, just to the left of Hamilton, occasionally falling into frame, a hearty smile on his face, clapping his encouragement and amusement.

"What the ever-loving fuck do you think you're doing here?" Alexander's pulled Seabury back to his feet, gripping his collar in both hands. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are wild, and the phone mercifully picks up almost every word as he spits it into Seabury's face.

"No, don't tell me, you actually think that the wrinkly old biscuits who wrote that shit hoped it could serve a purpose greater than an inadequately wank blanket to mop up the pathetic puddles of-"

The rest of his phrase is cut short as Seabury coughs and splutters a spray of blood onto Alexander's face. To his credit, the smaller man doesn't loosen his hold, red streaks dribbling down his face onto the collar of his shirt as he glares daggers at the other man. But then Seabury makes the disasterous choice of clearing his throat and speaking up again.

"There are ways in which we are taught to treat these unclean ladies and their bastards-"

Lafayette has known Alexander since the day he set foot in this hilarious country, but the years spent as housemates and colleagues could never have truly prepared him for the experience of watching his wiry little friend lifting a grown man into the air by his collar and, before any of the bemused bystanders had the sense of mind to try to step in and stop him, launching him bodily through the air and into the windshield of the car parked beside the road.

Peggy laughs so hard she falls off the arm of the chair.

"I thought the title was an exaggeration! Holy shit!"

Accepting the arm Lafayette offers to haul her back up, they watch together as Alexander, who is also on the floor now, is bundled up by security, his fists flying and his mouth running, as Seabury attempts to disentangle himself from the mess of glass shards he's landed in and –

" _Non_ , I was wrong, this is the very best part!"

There's a muffled scream, and the camera whips around to capture Mr Thomas Jefferson, the esteemed barrister, purple velvet coat slipping from his shoulders as he stumbles down the stairs, arm outstretched with a pathetic tremble.

"My car! That's my fucking car; what has he done to my car!"

The video ends on Jefferson's face, contorted in a grimace of rage and sorrow.

Peggy cackles madly, "Oh, Hamilton is so gone!" She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, "Jefferson was itching for a reason to nail him already."

Lafayette's fingers hover mischievously over the computer mouse, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"I think you may have missed some of the finer filmography, shall we watch it again?"

They don't get the chance to replay the beautiful arc of Seabury's body flying through the air, however, as the door to Washington's office snaps open, the owner of said car storming out of the room, yelling back over his shoulder to the remaining inhabitants of the room.

"Don't think this is the end of it, Hamilton!" Jefferson is still sporting his ridiculous jacket, shiny black boots striding down between the desks, his hair bouncing half a second behind each tread. "I don't care if you find the funding for an entire fleet of replacement cars, this time you're going down."

Hamilton's unmistakable voice comes floating pertly out of the office after him.

"Not all of us got here riding on the back of Daddy's inheritance, but give me time and I'll get you a hundred Porsches – but I feel I should warn you that it still won't get you laid, not until you find a way to remove that gigantic flagpole you've shoved right up- "

"Hamilton!"

Washington's deep rumble reverberates across the floor with feeling. Thomas Jefferson reaches the elevators, angrily stabbing the buttons, muttering under his breath. He may be a pretentious prick, but Lafayette knows that Jefferson is inherently a good man, who does his best to advocate for those without a voice, even if he is a little arrogant in person. Another time, he might have attempted to talk to him, but today Lafayette doesn't stay to watch him leave. Instead he jumps to his feet, as his coworkers disperse back to their own desks, and swoops down to press a kiss to Peggy's cheek. He hands her his pastry, catching the beginnings her warm, amused smile, before stalking down to Washington's office in long, quick paces to attempt to save his partner's career, against his better judgement. Lafayette may be a good friend, but if Alexander can get himself into these predicaments at least twice a week, he should be more than capable to get himself out of them, too.

Which, of course, he is already working on. He's loudly arguing his stance as Lafayette reaches the threshold of the office, citing the First Amendment and Rent lyrics in the same sentence, but for once, Washington's having none of it.

"We can't keep having this conversation, Alexander. You know better than this."

Alexander, for his part, sporting his usual patterned tie and collared shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbow, with those jeans that Lafayette had declared expired at least four months ago, at least has the decency to look embarrassed.

"I know I let my temper get the better of me sir, but if you'd only heard the shit- the _stuff_ he was saying- "

"I did hear; I was there!" Washington stands, crossing his arms. "As was every leading media outlet in the state. They managed to capture everything from the exact passage he was citing to the rather colourful choice of expletives you directed at Jefferson as he attempted to pull you back out of the security van. You're the one who is meant to be making the arrests, damn it!"

He's glaring down at Hamilton, eyes flashing, but this only prompts the young detective to rise to his feet, ineffectively attempting to even their positions – he stands at least a head and a half shorter than his commander. But his voice is earnest and his hands gesticulate pleadingly.

"But, sir! I did make the arrest, that's the whole point – why even arrest these bastards if people out there are are still going to get in front of a camera and _somehow_ find a way to make out like it's Sophie's fault that her lecherous cockroach of a football coach is an abusive asswipe." He pauses, mouth twisting, possibly reconsidering his choice of words while addressing his boss.

Washington is suitably unimpressed.

"Maybe because that _is_ your job, Detective Hamilton?" Last name – not good. Lafayette decides it's time to speak up.

"Sir, if I may?" Washington's head snaps in his direction and his eyes warm slightly. He's always had a soft spot for both boys, and this week Lafayette has been the direct cause of one less public scandal, so he might well be the current favourite.

"Yes?"

"Even though it is not our job," He gives Alexander a pointed look, " _Mon petit lion_ has successfully redirected the majority of media attention away from _pauvre_ Sophie and her family." He shrugs, "It may not have been a predictable outcome of his actions, but I think it is very good, _quand même_."

Washington thinks this over, arms still firmly crossed in front of his chest. Alexander shoots Lafayette a small smile, which is returned with an amorous roll of his eyes.

"I see what you're saying Detective Lafayette, even if it was not Hamilton's intention, I would be glad to give that family any moment of peace they can catch. But this time he really has gone too far."

Alexander attempts to stand a little taller. "Yep, still here in the room with you?"

Lafayette ignores him, "This is his way; _enfin_ this is what makes him the best detective you have."

So, that may not be entirely honest. In his immodest opinion, Alexander doesn't quite have the finesse and grace with which Lafayette administers his interrogations, but it's close enough to the truth. Their team, with Peggy, has consistently brought in almost double the number of successful cases than any other squad. Alexander shoots him a grateful grin as he continues.

"He is relentless, he is passionate. He is also, how you say, untameable?" Lafayette shrugs again, his hands out turned in front of him. "I would argue that, even if we try to contain them, lions are not intended to be tamed."

But their commander is shaking his head.

"It's no good. Not that I wouldn't entirely agree with your motivations, _privately_ ," He glares at Alexander, before he can pipe up in response, "But the coverage of this is too extensive, too damaging to our public relations. I'm sorry."

Alexander gulps, audibly, and Lafayette notes the quickening of his own pulse. The situation is a mess, but surely this isn't the end of his partner's career. It can't be.

"Please don't fire me." Alexander's voice is shockingly small and quiet, so unlike his usual fiery self. He must be truly terrified.

At this, Washington finally cracks a smile, his eyebrows quirking jovially.

"Fire you?" He laughs, "I'm not stupid, Alexander. You're far too talented a detective to be wasted on academia, or whatever it was you told me you were doing when I pulled you out of that dumpster. But for now, I'm taking you off all major active cases. In fact," he rifles through the stack of papers on the desk in front of him, plucking out the one he was searching for and leaning over to lay it out onto the dark wood in front of Alexander, "I have just the thing for you. This is your new mission, until I tell you otherwise every minute you spend within these walls will be focused on that and nothing else."

With that, Washington pulls on his suit jacket, quite probably to go and speak to the only-slightly-more-intimidating Commanders on the seventh floor. He's almost out the door before he calls back over his shoulder-

"And I'm having Adrienne close your twitter account!"

And then he's gone, leaving the two detectives alone in his office.

Alexander lets out a low groan, slumping forwards in the chair, resting his head on his hands. Lafayette sighs and walks over to him, ruffling his hair, unraveling the bun perched on the crown of his head.

"It could be worse, _cher_ , at least you aren't banned from the office again."

This, at least, elicits a small snort of amusement. Alexander rakes his hands through his hair, "Thank you for trying, Wash really does respect your opinion more than mine – "

"- _peut-être_ because I don't call him Wash- "

"- _but_ at least I have something to focus on while we wait for this to, eh, wash over."

They both break into sheepish grins at his choice of words. Tugging at his tie, Alexander leans forward and plucks the paper that Washington left for him, scanning over the contents swiftly. Lafayette peers over his shoulder, squinting with a pout at the name printed beside the words 'MISSING' across the top of the page.

"Who is John Laurens?"

The picture looks like it's taken from an ID card; the contrast is too high and the colours are distorted, but it's clear enough that the man is sporting pale blue scrubs, his dark curls tumbling around his neck, framing broad cheeks and a cautious, toothy smile. Alexander draws his gaze up from the paragraph printed below it to meet the gentle eyes staring back at him from the page, before answering quietly-

"No idea, but we're going to find him."


End file.
